


Hoping to Find the Respect I Deserve

by jaerie



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Architects, Homeless Harry, Interns & Internships, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-15 23:31:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12331017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaerie/pseuds/jaerie
Summary: Harry has starry eyes for the professional world after uni and takes an unpaid internship in a foreign country thinking he'll be on top in no time.  It doesn't quite work out that way.





	Hoping to Find the Respect I Deserve

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written as part of an ongoing challenge. We each select random numbers and are given a specific emotion from the book 1000 Feelings For Which There Are No Names. To read the other fics written in this challenge, [click here](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/ShortFic_Challenge_For_Which_There_Is_No_Name/works), or you can find the masterpost on tumblr [here](http://lululawrence.tumblr.com/post/159679804243/1000-feelings-for-which-there-are-no-names-prompt).
> 
> Prompt #84: The pleasure of going over the shopping list. 
> 
> The title is from the song Last $20 by Mozella which is kind of fitting for this little ficlet

  
  


It was all Harry could do to numb his brain as he stood scrubbing his shirt in the small bathroom sink.  76, 77, 78, 79… He counted mindlessly, attacking the smudges from his charcoal that were gathered around the sleeves.  The front of his tshirt was damp from the splashes but the feeling of wetness there against his stomach was better than the wetness in his eyes where the burn of tears was pressing.  It wasn’t even his own bathroom where he could seek solace if he wanted to let go of his emotions.  Instead he shared it with the rest of the rooms on this floor of the shitty youth hostel he was living in.  At any moment another stranger could push their way through the swinging door to take a shit in one of the stalls or waltz in completely naked towards the shower head sticking out from the wall.  There wasn’t a dry place to place any clothing so really that was the only way to go.  None of them would pay any attention to him slowly working away at his laundry.  

He only had a few sets of business casual clothing, some button ups, a couple sweater vests, a nice blazer.  Just enough to rotate into different combinations so it wasn’t immediately obvious he always wore the same thing into the office.  He carefully laundered them in the sink when they needed it and then spend some time with his hair drying back on his single sized bottom bunk in an effort to make them as wrinkle free as possible.  It had been fortunate that he had initially made the move to Berlin with long hair or he would have had to be more creative in this process.  It wasn’t the best method to direct the flow of hot air towards the fabric while he used a hand to smooth over the surface laid flat on his bed.  

Once his shirts and one pair of trousers were dry enough, he meticulously slid them onto his few plastic hangers, hooking them to the metal springs of the mattress above his.  It wasn’t ideal and left him even less space but it was his only option.  Leaving them hanging about was unfortunately seen as an opportunity to claim them and he couldn’t afford to lose another.  

A shiver ran through his body as his feet landed on the ice cold cheap tiled floor, freezing even through his socks.  He padded his way across the small room and pulled the key hanging from a string around his neck from under his tshirt.  The padlock on his small personal locker always stuck the first time and he let out a tired sigh while he wiggled it until it finally clicked free.  The other three lockers appeared to be empty and since it was already nearing midnight, he hoped that meant he had the room to himself for the first time in a while.  

The last two weeks had been hell with the Italian backpacker who stumbled in drunkenly singing Journey songs every night after bar close before having loud phone sex with his girlfriend on speaker phone.  He didn’t speak Italian but moans and other noises were a universal language and he didn’t want to be a witness to it.  He was relieved to see him packing up his bags the other morning while he got ready for work.  His exhaustion was overwhelming on a daily basis before taking late night interruptions into account.  

It wasn’t that Harry was not a tolerant person, just the opposite actually.  It had just been so long since he had some actual uninterrupted privacy in his living space that it chipped away at parts of himself he had always thought of as untouchable.  He had always had roommates through uni, even a dorm for his first two years, but with that also came a camaraderie and an understanding that sometimes they each just needed some space.  That rule didn’t apply here, never crossed the minds of these strangers.  

He pulled out his sheets and blanket, shaking each out to make sure nothing had crawled between the folds while they sat all day.  Crawling into bed with a huge spider only had to happen once for it to scar him for every bedtime routine to come in this place.  He shifted around his hanging clothes to make the small bed, smoothing the blanket over the top and turning down the covers in a small act of familiar comfort.  

His pillow was crumpled from being crammed in with the rest of his belongings. His whole life was in that locker which had dwindled down to just the bare essentials over the past year of this lifestyle.  Some things had been stolen, some things had been pawned but he had long since come to terms with it.  Stressing over material things didn’t bring them back and he sealed each wound up tight with emotional walls of super glue.  It was just better not to dwell on things.  

He climbed into his newly made bed, missing the crisp feeling of freshly laundered sheets he used to have the luxury of having frequently.  He made a mental note to save up to make a trip to the laundromat.  It had been a while and his bedding really could use a good soak.  He knew it wouldn’t be soon but maybe next week he would be able to put a couple dollars aside for such a luxury.  He tried not to think about it.  

The alarm on his phone was basic but did the trick to wake him early enough to make the long walk to the firm.  It was an older Nokia with a pay as you go plan, the only kind he was able to even partially afford.  If it wasn’t a requirement for his internship, he probably wouldn’t even have one at all.  He had never been the type to be glued to a smartphone.  He used his phone for phone things, always had really.  That had been one of the few things that hadn’t bothered him when he was forced to cut back.  

Cut back was really the gentle way of saying it.  Looking back, it probably hadn’t been the best decision to take an unpaid internship directly out of uni in a completely new country where he didn’t even speak the language.  He had some money saved up from his part time jobs and the shiny new world of adulthood seemed extra glamourous with an offer from Jacob Hall Architects at their Berlin branch.  It was expected that he would have to put in his time before he was truly allowed to make a name for himself and he jumped at the chance to get his foot in the door.  

In reality, he hadn’t really thought that through.  

He arrived in Berlin with starry eyes and big ambitions.  He had found himself a hotel room for the week and waltzed into the offices ready to impress everyone with his work.  Instead he found himself running errands, proofing proposals and doing busy work while his savings dwindled faster than a lit candle.  Within a few months he found himself on the street with his luggage, helpless and homeless without even enough change for shelter on public transit.  

That’s how Mona had found him, beaten down and defeated on the curb in front of the cafe.  It wasn’t the in the best part of town but she spoke enough English to coax him inside and gave him a mug of hot chocolate on the house.  She offered him an evening job in exchange for a bed in the adjoining hostel her brother in law owned and he hadn’t been in a place to refuse.  Since he didn’t speak more than a few words of German, he was stuck in the back as a dishwasher and he repeated his mantra of “at least I’m not homeless” as he scrubbed at the cheap ceramic dishes.  He didn’t receive a paycheck since the work hardly measured up to the paying body he displaced during their busy times but sometimes the servers would share their tips if they had a good night.  They let him eat the day old sandwiches from the case too if there were any left so he didn’t feel he had any right to ask for more.  

He kept showing up to the office every day and after 6 months, he was finally able to help with some of the projects.  Each minute spent there was just another rung on the ladder to success and when they offered to extend his internship, he had taken it as a promotion with a huge smile and a “thank you for the opportunity, sir”.  The extension hadn’t come with a paycheck but he continued to throw himself into the work, positive that eventually he would be making good money and laugh about the times he spent eating expired food and living out of a locker.  He had invested too much time into this firm to get greedy about his modest lifestyle now.  He couldn’t waste all of his sacrifices and hard work just so he could jerk off in the privacy of his own clean bed after eating a steak dinner.  It felt selfish when he thought of it like that. 

So he kept on going. 

His stomach growled as he carried rolls of blueprints down the hallway the next day.  There hadn’t been anything left over from the case the night before so his breakfast had consisted of two small sample squares of pastries from the bakery he passed every day on his way to the office.  It hadn’t done much more than made his mouth water for more but enough for him to scold his stomach for being greedy.  It hadn’t been loud but he still glanced around to make sure no one had heard which is exactly how he ran directly into one of the VIPs leaving one of the conference rooms.  

He mumbled apologies while he sank to his knees to gather the scattered rolls, face growing bright red.  He kept his gaze down, biting hard at his lip while he silently prayed he wouldn’t get let go after this.  There were always VIPs from the other branches coming and going and they were untouchable.  He wasn’t even allowed in their meetings yet let alone have a conversation or even make eye contact.  

“Harry, right?” the voice startled him enough to look up and if his nerves hadn’t already rendered him speechless, the beautiful man in front of him surely would have.  

“Sketches the little H’s in the corner of your mock ups?” Harry nodded and blushed with embarrassment.  He wasn’t allowed to label his work as his own yet but it was his small way of claiming at least a small sliver of ownership.  He was definitely going to be let go now that he was being called about about it.  

“I like your work,” the man held out a hand to help Harry up.  He took it and hoped he wasn’t shaking while he was pulled to his feet and wow, the man was shorter than him but still stood with so much power.  It was addicted to be close to it.  

“Um, thank you,” Harry shuffled the rolls he had stuck back under one arm, shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot.  

“Come in and have a seat,” the man held the door open and gestured inside.  Harry hesitated but then does as he is told, sitting down at one of the seats along the meeting room table.  He held the rolls protectively across his lap, hands gripping them so he wouldn’t fidget.  

“I’m Louis, a project director at the London office.  We’ve been looking to add some fresh eyes to a few things that need some revision and I think you would be a great addition to our team.  I have a little room to negotiate pay and of course moving expenses if you agree to come on board.  They’ve been trying to keep quite a grip on you here so I’m sure they’ll want to give you a pay bump to stay on but I’d be willing to match it.” 

“Pay bump?” was the first thing to roll off his tongue and he immediately shut his mouth.  

“Yes, I’m sure they’d be willing to bump you to project pay to stay here in Berlin.  From my understanding, you are only working on a freelance contract.”  

“I’m here as an intern.  Unpaid intern.”  It felt embarrassing to say it outloud when this Louis character must be mistaking him for someone else.  It was unsettling to a bubble of hope forming when he knew he should pop it before it got out of hand.  

“Unpaid.” it was a statement but there was an edge to it that made Harry go stiff.  Maybe that hadn’t been the right thing to say in the moment but he couldn’t find the words to take it back.  

“Unpaid,” Louis muttered to himself, his tone angry with maybe a bit of disbelief thrown in there.  “Are they at least paying for your housing and food?” 

“No sir,” Harry felt he had to answer honestly, shaking his head as he looked down at his lap ashamed.  

“For fuck’s sake, who is in charge around here?” Louis asked angrily and pushes his way out of the room.  

 

**Six Months Later**

 

It shouldn’t be the favourite part of Harry’s weekend but it always was.  

He sat down at his small kitchen table from Ikea, cookbooks opened to bookmarked pages around him and a notepad with cartoon vegetables making a border around the edges.  He had pen smudges on his cheeks and lips where he kept marking his skin while distracted, oblivious to the lines that he may or may not catch before heading out into public.  It was the least of his concerns though.  Today was farmer’s market day.   

He didn’t want to say his life had changed drastically yet in many ways it had.  The money he now made was kept and spent wisely, a careful budget that allowed him to live simply but not extravagantly.  The furniture in his small apartment was modest but now Harry had long term goals and the means to achieve them if he kept himself on track.  

Louis had offered him a job in London and in addition to the cost of moving back to England and finding an apartment, he had also advocated back pay for the duration of his unpaid internship which he had explained was against their company’s policy.  Louis had taken him under his wing and found out through the process that his work had been used on multiple projects without credit until Louis had taken things into his own hands.  

Louis wasn’t his team leader anymore, he had been promoted, but they still kept in touch.  Their friendship had skirted outside of work topics in the last few weeks and it made Harry blush every time he thought about it.  Louis was coming over for dinner tonight after flying back from New York which made his shopping trip extra special.  

He had decided on garlic herb chicken asparagus and he grew giddy with each new item he scratched onto the notepad.  

Asparagus 

He wrote out, muttering “obviously” to himself. 

Garlic

“I wonder if there will be anyone with fresh garlic… that would be best.”

Butter 

“Maybe the organic dairy people will be there again!!” He practically squealed to himself at the thought.

He continued, making notes to himself about each stop he would make and what he would purchase at each one.  It was difficult to think that just months ago he was eating discarded food and free samples just to get by.  Maybe his past self would have rolled his eyes at the excitement Harry now got from all the simple domestic things he was able to do but his life had given him some perspective.  He didn’t need expensive sound equipment or electronics, didn’t need fancy designer clothing, didn’t need pricey beach vacations or luxury cars… 

But food, being able to buy the ingredients to cook for himself, to run to the store to cook for others, to indulge in the goods that the farmer’s market had to offer… he didn’t think he would ever take that for granted again. 

His list was three note pages long by the time he was finished, items for at least 4 different recipes he was itching to try.  He carefully folded the pages into squares and slipped them into his pocket with a bright smile on his face.  His reuseable shopping bags were already hanging by the door.  

He slipped his shoes on, grabbed his wallet and his keys and smiled to himself.  There may have been a time when numbing himself was a necessary coping mechanism but now he wouldn’t dream of not allowing himself to feel.  

There was hope for his future. There was hope for his career.  There was hope for Louis.  There was hope for a relationship.  There was hope for his life.   But most significantly, he had finally allowed himself to have any hope at all.  

**Author's Note:**

> [If you enjoyed, here's the tumblr post :)](http://jaerie.tumblr.com/post/166289685701/title-hoping-to-find-the-respect-i-deserve)


End file.
